


Her Blood Repels Her

by thearkofdawn



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hanahaki Disease, Mental Health Issues, Post-Time Skip, Unhappy Ending, Unhealthy Relationships, small references to their supports, sylvain is incapable of having genuine romantic feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 18:09:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21020033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thearkofdawn/pseuds/thearkofdawn
Summary: “I love you,” she confesses.He accepts.She’s elated.But she doesn’t feel any different.





	Her Blood Repels Her

How cruel can love be?

How deep can she fall?

These thoughts plagued Marianne’s mind.

It wasn’t supposed to be so serious.

But love is unpredictable.

_Goddess, I ask for guidance._

Over the years, she learned to love herself.

She was stronger than before.

She had more confidence.

She thought it was okay for her to love.

How foolish.

-

It was a minor crush.

It wasn’t anything special.

She was comfortable around him.

It was refreshing to be able to talk freely to someone.

He made her happy.

He made her smile.

She enjoyed the time she spent with him.

But that small crush grew larger.

She found herself longing for affection.

Oh, how she longed.

For him and only him.

She spent days and nights dreaming.

Oh, how she dreamed.

Of him and only him.

Sylvain.

His charming looks.

His sweet smile.

His caring words.

_Will you please look at me?_

_ The way I look at you?_

_Goddess, I ask for guidance._

Her love grew.

And it began to hurt.

Her chest was heavy all of a sudden.

It became difficult to breathe.

She coughs.

And she coughs.

She must be getting sick.

_It is starting to get colder after all._

She asks for cough medicine.

It doesn’t help.

She asks for cold medicine.

It doesn’t help.

_Why is nothing working?_

-

She goes on with her life.

Meeting with her friends.

Thinking of Sylvain.

For months.

Some coughs every now and then.

Nothing too bad.

But it’s terrible one day.

The heavy feeling in her chest again.

The familiar cough sounds she makes.

Her stomach is in pain.

Her head is in pain.

She is in pain.

She feels nauseous.

She’s choking.

There’s something in her throat.

She vomits.

A petal.

A petal of a daffodil.

It was shriveled up and stained with blood.

It was disgusting.

Hanahaki.

She has hanahaki.

It takes a while for her to process.

She cried that night.

-

Could he love her?

If she tells him, would he return her feelings?

She wants to believe.

But the petals in her room tell her otherwise.

They pile up.

It’s awful to look at.

She wants to tell him.

_No more running._

_No more hiding._

_I’m not the same as before._

She goes to find him.

She found him.

Her chest is heavy once again.

“I love you,” she confesses.

He accepts.

She’s elated.

But she doesn’t feel any different.

_Why?_

-

They spend more time with each other.

They go out on dates.

They look at each other.

They smile at each other.

They hold hands.

They embrace each other.

They whisper sweet nothings to each other.

They care for each other.

But she doesn’t feel any different.

She continues to cough.

She continues to bloody her hands.

She continues to spit out ugly petals.

She continues to cry herself to sleep.

She continues to suffer.

Sylvain doesn’t love her.

Not in the way that she loves him.

Was she so undesirable?

Does he pity her?

Perhaps he only likes her.

And it hasn’t evolved to love yet.

She clings on to that hope.

She waits.

She waits for the day she’s able to breathe.

Should that day ever come.

But that day doesn’t come any time soon.

Her condition worsens.

She finds herself growing weaker with each passing day.

She leaves her friends earlier than usual.

She can hardly bring herself to leave her room.

Sylvain’s concerned.

He knocks on her door.

She doesn’t answer.

He knocks again.

She tells him she doesn’t feel like talking to anyone.

He tells her he wants to see her.

She sighs.

She misses him.

She decides she wants to talk to him.

She slightly opens the door to see him.

Her chest is heavy again.

She changes her mind.

She tries to quickly close the door.

But he catches it.

He pushes it open.

She’s too weak to fight back.

His eyes widen at the sight of her room.

_He knows._

_He knows._

It’s a mess.

She’s a mess.

Clothes everywhere.

Books everywhere.

Tissues everywhere.

Petals everywhere.

The petals would've been a beautiful sight had they not been bloodied and straight from her mouth.

Her trash can was full of them.

She no longer cared where the petals fell.

He says nothing.

There’s guilt written all over his face.

She says nothing.

There’s pain written all over her face.

"You're dying," he says.

It's not a question.

"I am," she answers.

"I'm sorry," is all he could muster.

_It’s your fault._

_It’s your fault._

It’s not his fault.

She wants to get angry.

She wants to tell him he shouldn't have accepted her feelings.

She wants to tell him he shouldn’t have given her hope.

But she doesn't have the heart to tell him.

The pain is still there in her chest.

There's an uncomfortable silence.

He wants to ask her how long she’s been like this.

He wants to ask why she didn’t tell him.

Instead he tells her it’s not too late.

Instead he tells her to undergo surgery.

She refuses.

He quietly speaks.

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t love you in the way you want me to.

Please don’t die because of me.

I don’t think I could live with that.”

“Feel guilty because of me,” she thinks.

She has several emotions.

Love.

Hate.

Anger.

Fear.

All muddled in her head.

But her mind wanders aimlessly.

How much longer?

How much longer can she take this?

She wants to yell.

She wants to cry.

She wants to breathe.

She wants to die.

She wants to throw a tantrum.

She wants to make her room even more of a mess.

She wants peace.

She wants quiet.

She doesn't know what she wants anymore.

She Doesn’t Know What She Wants Anymore.

She coughs out more petals.

She spits out more blood.

The sight of her blood irritates her.

It’s revolting.

It’s ugly.

It reminds her that she’s in pain.

It reminds her that she’s dying.

Sylvain stares at the petals.

Sylvain stares at her.

Her eyes are empty.

They’re nothing like how she used to look at flowers.

It hurts to look at.

For the both of them.

_I’m a fool for loving you so much._

"...Please tell me you love me.

I need nothing else."

Her voice was shaking and strained.

_Deceive me again._

_I want that feeling._

"Marianne...you know that won't help," he said softly.

"..."

"Please remove it...I can't lose you."

"There's a chance I won't be able to love at all.

I won't remember you at all.

Dying would be the same."

_I love you._

_I don’t want to live without you._

_Even if it brings me pain._

He doesn’t know how to convince her.

"Maybe it's better that you don't remember me.

I don’t want you to suf-"

"No!

You are the one that I love.

You are the one that I hold dear.

I cannot forget that!"

She's bawling.

Sylvain finds himself in tears as well.

She's holding on to him as if he'd leave her.

Oh, how strong her grip is.

She falls to the ground, taking Sylvain with her.

She's crying.

She's coughing.

Her breathing becomes more difficult yet again.

Sylvain holds her, but he stays quiet as more petals fall.

He realizes how dark the sky had become.

There are no stars.

The moon does not show itself.

And so they sit.

In the cold, dark room.

He can’t convince her.

Sylvain stays with her that night.

He waits for her to sleep.

It is a long wait.

Sylvain checks up on her every day.

He tries his best to ease the pain and discomfort.

But she doesn’t feel any different.

“I don’t know how to love,” he confesses.

How unfortunate for her.

To be able to love.

Yet fall for a man who can’t.

The months are the same.

Until one day it’s not.

She calls Sylvain.

She wants to be with him.

He comes.

Her chest is heavy yet again.

It is incredibly difficult to breathe.

She’s choking.

She threw up an entire daffodil.

She knows what this means.

They both know what this means.

_It will be over soon._

More daffodils.

More blood.

She grows weak.

Marianne looks at Sylvain.

Marianne smiles at Sylvain.

Sylvain cries.

_Goddess, please save my soul._

The knight had failed his maiden.

**Author's Note:**

> Daffodils can mean unrequited love and also "You're the only one for me."  
:^)
> 
> This is actually my first time publishing a fic so I apologize if there's any mistakes!  
This started as a small thought, but I felt the need to write it.
> 
> I don't have much to say other than thank you for taking the time to read this!


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